Oblivion
by Sirlaggalot
Summary: Severus wakes up 15 months after the Battle of Hogwarts to a world he doesn't remember. How will he find himself when he can't even recognise who he is? Warnings: Slash (SS/HP), Non-accurate portrayals of a mental health condition, Language, Sexual/suggestive descriptions (later in the story).
1. Chapter 1: A Man Without A Past

_Disclaimer:  
_

 _I do not claim the rights to any of these characters who belong to J.K. Rowling._

 _No profit is or will be made from these stories._

 _These stories have not had a beta (please feel free to apply to beta)._

 _None of the mental health issues portrayed here were heavily researched and should not be viewed as an accurate description or diagnosis._

 _All mistakes are my own._ _  
_

* * *

 **OBLIVION**

 **Chapter 1: A Man Without A Past**

His name was Severus Tobias Snape.

At least, that was what he had been told and so it must be true for he saw no reason that they would have lied to him.

Upon waking up, Severus had realised he had no idea where he was. More importantly than that, he realised he did not know who he was. This naturally made him extremely concerned. At first the Healers had assumed he was simply disorientated. Upon further examination however, they realised that he did not remember that magic existed (he had yelled most indignantly when he was levitated to a gurney for transportation into a different ward). This was most worrying for the existence of magic was a very hard thing to simply forget, especially when someone had lived an entire adult life with it.

The Healers told him that he was a wizard who had just spent 15 months in a coma. He would have been inclined to dispute such claims, had it not been for the fact that a Healer had been levitating a feather quill and parchment, which was scribbling furiously of its own volition, as she fired off questions for Severus to answer. She was simultaneously waving a wand that made several parts of Severus glow. After Healer Rosek had finished, Severus could only conclude that yes, magic was real and that he was a wizard who had lost all his memories. So there he was; inside a magical hospital called St Mungo's, as a man without a past.

For several weeks, from the moment Severus' eyes opened each morning, he lived in a kind of limbo with the same repetitive routine. He waited to be fed, and tested, and medicated, and to finally fall asleep once more. Sleep was particular difficult as disjointed images filled his dreams. Whether they were fragments of memories his subconscious tried to bring forth or simply an over-anxious mind, Severus did not know. He could barely make out what or who they were as faces seemed to blur into one another and glimpses of places that were completely foreign to him appeared behind his eyelids.

When he had tried to entertain himself between all the waiting, Severus realised frustratingly that he could not even recall if he had hobbies to pursue. He certainly could sense he had preferences and found some activities more pleasing than others. After completing the many mind puzzles and exercises the Healers attempted to foist upon him, Severus decided he liked chess best, with its consistent rules and strategies. He was a fair player but his mind could not chase down the who or the how of learning it. No natural learner, no matter how talented, could reach the level of competency he displayed in just a few matches. How had he gained such a complex skill? Would he have played better if he had full command of his memory?

Though the Healers reassured him that it was perfectly expected to feel a little lost due to his condition, Severus felt like he was missing the very context and purpose of his existence. To his current self, Severus was experiencing his magical environment for the first time. He was constantly awed and surprised at such casual use; close a curtain; fill a cup with water; turn down a bed. Severus realised that his past self would have been armed with knowledge and perspective to make sense of it all and perhaps had even performed magic himself with great competency. He wondered if there was any possibility that he could use magic again. The answer to that thought filled him with simultaneous hope and dread. However, instead of dwelling on these emotions that brought with them an undercurrent of anxiety and longing, Severus filled his days with reading and catching up on as many current and past events as he could. Whatever man he might have been before, a strong instinct told him that he had to arm himself with information about this strange world he had awoken to if he had any hope of surviving now.

From his perusal of old newspapers and small talk with his caregivers, Severus learnt of a magical war that spanned several decades. He learnt of a Dark Lord (which they oddly would only refer to as 'You-Know-Who') had seemingly been trying to enslave non-magical people and anyone who supported them; of the Order of the Phoenix, headed by Albus Dumbledore, who had been fighting against You-Know-Who's sinister influences; and of Harry Potter at the centre of it all. He also learnt of his own personal involvement and to his great surprise, that he had been a spy for the Order. He had been such a good spy in fact, that when the war ended, the Ministry of Magic had wanted him to stand trial for war crimes, specifically the murder of Dumbledore, even as Severus lay comatose. Had it not been for the testimony of Mr Potter and pensieve memories from several sources, including those left by Dumbledore himself proving that Severus was just a catalyst for Dumbledore's sacrifice, Severus would not have been exonerated. Nor would he have received an Order of Merlin Second Class for his contributions to the greater good. Severus did not quite grasp the importance of such an award, but could infer that it would be an honour to receive one. It was all very strange to be reading about and sometimes seeing his other self in the moving images of magical newspapers. There was even a brief profile about him only a few months after The Battle of Hogwarts, which listed his life in little dot points and dramatic facts, which appealed to the gossipy tendencies of the general post war populace.

Severus could only accept such details of his past and surroundings with a vague sense of detachment. When he had first used a mirror, Severus could not quite recognise his own reflection. He certainly looked very different from the published photos of the papers and was surprised (yet somehow not) by his own current appearance. It was akin to staring at a painted portrait, the details both real and embellished by someone else. His dark eyes closely observed the line of his hooked nose, which sat above somewhat thin lips. Severus was not as gaunt or sallow as he had expected of somebody who had been atrophying on a bed for 15 months, no doubt helped by the magical remedies they had been feeding him. He already knew he had dark hair that was kept neatly trimmed to just shy of his chin. Although he felt the coarse rub of stubble upon his jaw, he had no other facial hair, for which he was glad, as he did not think it would have suited him. While he would not consider himself a handsome man, the overall effect was that of an intelligent one, even if the lines were somewhat harsh. There was also a hideous scar that stretched from behind his left ear to just below his collarbone; the only remaining mark of the snakebite that had nearly killed him.

Initially, the Healers had believed Severus' memory loss had been caused by residual magical venom for he had suffered the terrible bite from a giant snake when was first admitted. However tests conclusively proved that there was no trace of the snake in his system, magical or physical. They performed every diagnostic they could think of, hoping to comb for some fine detail they had missed. After the fruitless search and retesting, they finally surmised that it was not physical damage that caused his memory loss, but great psychological trauma.

Severus Tobias Snape had psychogenic amnesia.

Two months after regaining consciousness, Severus was reading through a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ after breakfast when a knock on door drew his attention. He looked up to see a petite and feminine young lady with a strange mix of clothing. She seemed to have thrown them on with completely disregard for fashion and colour. Her slightly wavy golden hair the texture of fine spun silk settled just below her waist and on her nose rested a pair of purple horn-rimmed glasses. There was an air of the ethereal about her as she stood there. She carried a fabric bucket bag, which swung from her shoulders and in her arms held close to her chest was a glossy covered, full colour magazine with the heading _The Quibbler_ emblazoned in a fiery font that actually flickered like a flame.

"Good morning, Professor." She said in a soft sweet voice.

Confused by being addressed as 'Professor', Severus simply nodded cautiously. He did not know this girl, but she clearly knew him.

"I suppose I shouldn't call you that anymore since you're no longer teaching me, or remember that you ever did." She continued, unperturbed by his lack of verbal response and made her way to his bedside. She plopped herself down into a chair next to the bed. "Let's start again. Good morning, Mr Snape. I'm Luna Lovegood. Before you lost your memory, I was one of your students at Hogwart's School of Magic. You taught me Potions and you were a very respected Potions Master."

Severus had read about that part of his former life in the _Daily Prophet_. For a brief moment, he felt a swell of pride; he was also hit with the immediate disappointing realisation that it was also not he who was a Potions Master, but another Severus who lived his life before him. He mentally shook himself from such negative thoughts and turned his attention to her instead.

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood. I'm no longer the Professor you remember, but I appreciate that a former student has made the effort to come and see me." He replied neutrally.

He stared openly as she let out a giggle and put her things down. "Please don't think I'm being rude, Mr Snape. It's just, when you were my professor, you were well known to be a very stern teacher of little words, especially not kind ones. I just found it amusing that the first words you would ever say to me after meeting for the first time again, would be 'Thank you'. You really are a different person now."

"I'm here to help you." Miss Lovegood continued before Severus could bristle at her honest observation. "I've been training as a sort of social aid for displaced wizards and witches who had lost their livelihoods due to the war. There were a lot of people who had lost their homes or need help to rebuild their lives. The Ministry of Magic had created a temporary department to assist them."

Severus frowned slightly. "I don't quite understand. What does that have to do with me? You are clearly aware of my inability to recall if I have a home to go back to."

"In your case, the Healers feel they've done all they can with your conditions. Healer Rosek has agreed that it would be better for you in the long run to be able to learn to live independently in order to heal your mind. Whether that's going to be in the muggle or magical world, it must be done. There is nothing else for you here." She explained patiently.

Severus had known the time would come when he would need to leave St Mungo's. While he was certainly handicapped compared to an adult wizard who could recall all their magical training, he was not impaired. He could learn. He could start again to build something of his broken life. Severus could not shelter in this temporary sanctuary forever. While the Healers and staff had treated him well, St Mungo's did not feel like a home to belong. There was something missing from his clinical routine-driven existence.

"I had expected as much." Severus agreed. "If my choice counts at all, I would like to attempt this process while living in the wizarding world. I may barely remember my past, but I am a wizard nonetheless. Perhaps something will trigger in my mind when I have reached an appropriate level of assimilation."

Miss Lovegood smiled again. "You still speak like your other self. I will make the necessary arrangements to best of my abilities. There are lots of classes and counselling sessions you can take to help with your recovery, but I think the best thing for you may lie in the people who knew you. Perhaps that's something to consider."

She stood to leave before turning back to him with a quirk of her head. "Oh, and I've brought you a condensed copy of _The Quibbler_ from just after the war. It's much more informative than anything the _Prophet_ may have published during that time. Please keep it." She indicated to the magazine she had left on his bedside table next to the small bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase.

On the cover, a phoenix flew in circle around a strange triangle symbol, leaving trails of scorching flame in its wake.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I plotted this story many years back when Harry Potter had a much more active fandom. I rediscovered the hastily scribbled notes a few weeks ago, buried in with a lot of other plot lines that I had also created at the time. Sadly, many of them were written by a less socially aware, more socially awkward 14 year old me and were super problematic in their themes and tropes. So they were mostly dumped, except for this one which I felt had a lot of potential. I'm a little rusty from years of not writing and involving myself in these characters, so please bear with me if any OCC-ness occurs.

Please leave a comment and favourite/follow if you've enjoyed reading. I respond regularly to reader reviews.


	2. Chapter 2: A Family Affair

_Disclaimer:_

 _I do not claim the rights to any of these characters who belong to J.K. Rowling._

 _No profit is or will be made from these stories._

 _These stories have not had a beta (please feel free to apply to beta)._

 _None of the mental health issues portrayed here were heavily researched and should not be viewed as an accurate description or diagnosis._

 _All mistakes are my own._

* * *

 **OBLIVION**

 **Chapter 2: A Family Affair**

Harry took a deep breath to ground himself before rapping sharply on the back door of The Burrow. He looked up at the abode, recently rebuilt after its unfortunate destruction. The Weasley's home had changed drastically. This house was nothing like the rickety building that was immolated by Death Eaters in what would have been their Seventh Year. It was hard to believe it had been almost two years since the demise of Lord Voldemort. The Burrow was much sturdier a structure now, still tall and reaching ever skywards. It had even levels and extensions in weathered wood that still allowed it to retain its rustic farmhouse feel. With no expectant Weasleys in the family and only a few of their children living at home, they could finally start anew with well laid plans for the architecture of the place.

The Burrow had always been a place of belonging and welcome to him, though at this moment he briefly wondered if would still be invited inside. He could hear voices raised in humour emanating from the other side of the door. The frantic fussing of Mrs Weasley grew closer, in the background Harry could make out the excited chatter of Hermione, and Fleur's lilting French tones.

The heavy oak door swung open. There was silence for brief moment as everyone turned to see who had arrived. Harry stood awkwardly in the open doorway as all eyes fell on him.

"Harry!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, her face surprised, but to Harry's relief, it appeared to be pleasantly so. He felt a wave of reassurance sweep over him. She had not taken one look at him and slammed the door in his face. She gave him one of those warm motherly hugs he always appreciated and ushered him inside. "I thought I felt someone enter the wards. Come in, come in. Oh dear, your nose is all red. You must be freezing. How long did you stand out there for?"

From behind her, Ron was smiling brightly. "Heya, Harry!". There were choruses of similar happy voices greeting him by the rest of the Weasley clan. Mr Weasley stood with Percy and Bill by the fireplace nursing glasses filled with amber Ogden's whiskey. Hermione was sitting with Fleur on the well-worn embroidered sofa. He briefly wondered where the rest of the Weasley clan was.

"Hullo, Mrs Weasley, everyone. I just thought I'd drop by to see you. Sorry I haven't been making an appearance. We just finished the last of the restoration work at Hogwarts and I thought I should drop by seeing as I haven't been able to make it to any of your dinners in the last few months." He blathered nervously.

"Oh Harry, you should know we look forward to seeing you whenever we can. You should also know to call me Molly by now. 'Mrs Weasley' always reminds me of my mother." Her lips turned upwards in a genuine smile despite her mock chastisement. "Have you had dinner? I'm just about done with this roast beef. Would you like something to drink?" Mrs Weasley walked away without waiting for Harry's reply and busied herself with directing the pots and pans that were swerving haphazardly through the air in the kitchen. It would be three course meal tonight, no doubt. Now that his belly was no longer doing backflips, Harry did feel hungry. He had missed Mrs Weasley's cooking terribly.

Harry shook Arthur's hand, greeted Bill and Percy, and made his way over to the couch. Fleur warmly dropped a kiss on each of his cheeks and promptly vacated her seat to make room for him and Ron. "Good to see you again, 'Arry." she said before considerately moving to Bill. The couple fell into quiet conversation, leaving the trio to themselves.

Hermione gave him a rib squeezing hug. "We've missed you. I'm glad you've plucked up the courage to visit again. You know no one holds it against you for breaking up with Ginny." Hermione straightforwardly dove into the sensitive topic.

Harry ran his fingers through his tousled hair and let out a sigh. He had known that very well, and yet for the 3 months after they had separated, he was afraid to risk rejection by the only true family he had ever known. He was no longer the Harry Potter that was dating their only daughter. He found it difficult to face the Weasleys formally as just Harry again. It was certain that nothing would have made Mr and Mrs Weasley happier than to have had him join the family in an official capacity. Now that the potential was lost, he had been worrying over whether or not they would still welcome him as before.

"Yeah." Harry agreed. "I was just anxious they would take it badly and never want to speak to me again. It would hurt. A lot."

"Harry, it was a mutual decision." Ron stretched his long lanky arms behind them and along the sofa backrest. "She's clearly not heartbroken or anything. Disappointed it didn't work out, maybe, but so are you. Ginny's an adult now, she knows it's just part of growing up and stuff."

"That's...oddly observant of you, Ronald." Hermione teased to which Ron objected with a mock-offended "Oi!".

"In any case, mum and dad would never take sides. You're as much a son to them as I am." Ron continued confidently, popping a tart that had been sitting on a white and blue china plate into his mouth. The painted figure of a frog that been hiding beneath scrambled and ducked under a neighbouring pastry.

"Ginny still considers you family. She still cares for you even if you can't be together like you thought you were going to." Hermione placed a hand comfortingly over his own.

Harry's heart warmed and he was grateful for such supportive people in his life. He simply nodded instead of trying to respond verbally to any of it. He also cared a great deal for Ginny. Though they had broken up, Harry still wanted her to be happy, even if it was without him. He knew now that they were not meant for one another. They had grown apart due to circumstance and there was no point waiting for a time that may never come.

After Voldemort, fighting dark wizards no longer appealed to Harry and so he had deferred the Ministry's direct admission invitation to the Auror Training Program. With nothing in particular to do but still wanting to help, he had gone back to Hogwarts to help with ongoing repairs. The first official year of their relationship, Ginny had been completing her NEWTs; with Ginny was stressed and under pressure, Harry tried to give her space. Afterwards she was headhunted to be the reserve seeker for the Holyhead Harpies. They rarely saw each other due to conflicting schedules. It felt burdensome and unnatural to have to make appointments to see each other whenever they could spare a moment to owl. Often plans would fall through regardless. Harry missed the spontaneity they shared in the beginning.

Expectations and speculation of their inevitable engagement only complicated the already troubled relationship; the gossip magazines insisted on monthly predictions of when they would wed. They both realised they were not ready for marriage, though Harry very much wanted someone to build a home with. Ginny with her Quidditch and rising popularity did not allow her to be physically and emotionally present. Nothing malicious had ended their time together. There was no big fight, no dramatic emotional break down, just a sense that they were at different points in life and neither could compromise. They had sat quietly at the kitchen counter of Grimmauld Place. Both had agreed it was the end and that was that.

In the months that followed their break up, Harry had bouts of retrospective agony over whether separating was the correct choice. What if he had just been patient and waited? But for how long would that have been? Could he have made more of an effort? There were times when he chose not to meet simply because he was tired. He should have tried harder. What would the Weasleys think of him now? He came to accept that none of these questions were relevant when he no longer was in love with Ginny. Harry was feeling the loss of romantic stability and afraid of the uncertainty of finding another person to fall in love with.

Eventually Ginny had broken the news to Ron, and Harry to Hermione, who already knew the relationship was on the rocks and was completely unsurprised. Ron had taken it rather well, surprisingly. Harry had been sure that he may lose his best friend too. After a few lengthy talks together which may or may not have involved dubious amounts of alcohol, Ron had convinced him to finally come back to join them for dinner tonight. It had taken all his Gryffindor courage to Apparate to The Burrow and the rest of his will to not Apparate immediately back home.

"Mum! George and I fixed that whistling shower head in your bathroom. It might still try to sing opera every now and then but it will have to do until you get a maintenance wizard to have a look." Ginny's voice called from the stairwell, pulling Harry back from his musings.

Harry looked up and watched her descend with George following close behind her. George saw him first and smiled, giving a salute of hello. Harry stood up nervously. His eyes met hers as she rounded the last step. He let out the breath he was holding when she smiled at him. She approached him and stood to face him, leveling him with an even gaze.

"Didn't expect to see you here." She punched him teasingly in the shoulder before pulling him into an affectionate hug. It was very Ginny. He hugged her back.

"Thought it was 'bout time." He replied as he pulled away.

"...Good." She grinned, seemingly satisfied with his response.

"Good." He echoed.

"Great!" Ron clapped Harry on the back. "Now that we've established Harry isn't going to be disowned anymore, let's have dinner. I'm bloody starving!"

"Ronald!" Hermione chastised.

"What? I am!"

Before Hermione could properly expand her lecture, Mrs Weasley called everyone to dinner. The table was set with a resplendent meal of potato and leek soup, Yorkshire pudding, roast beef & vegetables, mushy peas and silky beef gravy. Harry was sure he could smell his favourite treacle tart warming in the oven. They all jostled to take a seat at the long beech dining table. To truly demonstrate that everything was perfectly fine again, Ginny tugged at Harry's shirt sleeve, inclining her head to the empty spot next to hers. Harry smiled and obliged, finally feeling comfortable to be amongst his family and friends once more. They all gathered for the true first family feast in months.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Sorry I haven't updated on a weekly schedule like had planned to. Life and work has been a little extra demanding this and I've been writing at any spare moment I can. Hopefully things will calm down soon so I can dive back into fantasy land. As always, please R&R, favourite or follow if you've liked reading so far.


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